These Pieces Are Broken
by suspiriorum
Summary: A series of drabbles written for a now defunct community on LJ. I haven't written for the all prompts yet, but will periodically update when I do. The focus is primarily on Shosanna/Fredrick, with some Hellstrom/Bridget von Hammersmark.
1. Whole

"Shosanna."

Fredrick's voice was hushed with awe.

Theirs was a night of angry tears, desperation, understanding, and finally, absolution.

Shosanna's breath caught in her throat as Fredrick reached out and gently ran his thumb over the small, crescent-shaped scar above her left cheekbone. Despite it all, the Jewish theater proprietor and the German War Hero were nothing but a couple of kids, trapped in a circumstance greater than them both.

Fredrick knew it'd be some time until either would be whole; but as Shosanna gave him a small smile and placed her hand over his, he realized they already were.


	2. Together

Their vulnerabilities nested deep within their bones. Terrified of their mutual fragility, they approached each other with trepidation. Some nights, she would be curled into herself, back facing him, her body softly quaking with hushed sobs. Other nights, he would relegate himself to a corner of the room, openly weeping as she quietly watched.

Their touches lingered and their love-making was passionate, yet the damage of their pasts remained.

Then one night, Shosanna reached out to Fredrick and cradled him in her arms. It was in that moment that they promised never to part; together, they would see this through.


	3. Fate

"I am Shosanna Dreyfus."

She and Marcel knew that they could possibly die that night.

But now, as Shosanna cradled the dying young man in her lap, she knew her fate was sealed.

The rest of _them_ would be consumed by the flames of her righteous anger; but Fredrick would burn with her, with compassion, and perhaps, if she would admit it, _love_.

He weakly nodded his head in acknowledgment of her confession and whispered,

_"I know."_

As her laughter filled the auditorium, Shosanna enveloped Fredrick within her arms with all her strength as the flames rose at her back.


	4. Sweeter Than Strings

"This place has the _best_ strudel," Fredrick was extremely enthusiastic about this little restaurant, "it's like the kind my sister Annaleisa makes."

Fredrick was attempting to alleviate what he perceived Shosanna to be feeling as stress; as kind as the gesture was, she could not hold back the wave of nausea she felt at even the mere mention of _strudel_.

"No cream, please," Fredrick requested of the waiter, "as perfectly delicious strudel should stand on its own."

Upon its arrival, Shosanna cautiously took a bite. Fredrick regarded her expectantly, awaiting her approval. Shosanna smiled, despite herself.

_He was right._


	5. She's Always Calling My Bluff

As Hellstrom explained the rules of the game, he kept his eyes fixed on hers. Even in the company of two Basterds and the handsome, British gentleman, it may as well have been only Bridget and Dieter seated at the table.

They were both younger then, when those liaisons took place. The world he found within her flesh was the only one that made sense.

Dieter still mourned the loss of that contact; he never could play the hand he was dealt.

The tension was palpable.

Bridget smiled.

Like all of their previous encounters, she would come out on top.


	6. No one ever gets what they want

He was a contradiction.

He was both a boy and a man.

Naive, yet knowing.

An innocent and a killer.

A Nazi, yet he intensely loved (albeit unknowingly) a Jew.

The luger slipped from his hand as she rolled him over.

With a pained expression upon his face, his eyes held agony, but not a trace of malice.

She cradled him as he died; not a word passed between them. Weakly, he managed to brush his hand against her cheek.

Standing outside of _Le Gamaar_, she witnessed its demise with Marcel by her side and Fredrick's blood on her hands.


	7. rattle my frame and shatter my ghost

Her touch was tender; achingly, exceedingly so.

Never before had he felt so much as he did within this moment:

The soft touch of her hand. The heated presence of her body beside his. The gentle weight of her upon him.

His heart thundered and his body trembled, even in spite of the cold, hard metal that tore through his flesh and the warm, sticky blood trickling down his back.

This was far more than a comforting gesture.

She was fully offering herself to him and eagerly, he accepted, returning her violent affections.

Fredrick loved Shosanna as she loved him.


	8. Your Body Above Me

They move together; warm flesh and thundering hearts.

She clings to him, craving his solidity.

Her body trembles beneath his, writhing against him.

Her skin flushes, pink and heated.

Her brows stitch together, as if in contemplation.

She cries out; her voice strong and clear, in exaltation.

She holds him to her, her eyes locking with his as the tremors subside.

She is magnificence; she is _everything_.

Voice hushed with awe, she whispers,

"_Je t'aime, Fredrick_."

Fredrick loved Shosanna, that was never in question.

It is, however, in moments such as these that he is rendered entirely senseless by her.


End file.
